


Shaded

by raiykei



Series: Soul Bound [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Demon AU, Demon!Mingi, Demon!Seonghwa, Demon!Yunho, Emotional Manipulation, Gang AU, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Knives, M/M, Panic Attacks, demon and human bonds, demon!Wooyoung, everyone else is humans, forced drugging, other idols as background characters - Freeform, some sketchy shit happens, there some magical elements, yunhos a murder puppy and i will not apologize, yunsan is the ship the fic focuses around but the others are there as established relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiykei/pseuds/raiykei
Summary: "I'll have to blindfold you.""I've had worse first dates."...San has always been stuck in his mother's shadow, the son of an infamous gang leader, part of a lifestyle he had no choice in. Meeting Yunho was both the best and worst thing to happen to him, drawing him into a world he's not sure is better or worse than the underbelly he's been stuck in most of his life. There is one thing he knows for sure, though. Yunho cast light where there had been nothing but shadow, coloring him in lights he didn't know existed.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Song Mingi, Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Jung Wooyoung/Kim Hongjoong, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Series: Soul Bound [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115558
Comments: 32
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been chipping away at this for a while, so I'm glad I finally get to share the first chapter with you guys! It's my contribution to spooky season, so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> Please pay attention to the tags, and if at any point you feel I should tag something additionally please let me know!

Ropes bit into his skin, and despite anything he may have snarked out to his captors earlier, the sensation was far from pleasurable as the rough cord rubbed his wrists raw. His knees ached from the hard concrete beneath them, but it was nothing compared to the pain that laced up his back whenever he so much as twitched, San feeling the what had to be a couple hours spent bent forward into the most uncomfortable position of his life, one foot placed between his shoulder blades keeping him there.

And that was saying something.

He knew bruises marked his skin if the split in his lip and aches that littered his body were any give away. No one had appreciated his good humor when they had surrounded him earlier in the night, escape routes cut off, flaunting what little power and control over the situation he had. It hadn't been much, and they had been quick to show him that, laying into him with fists and kicks with as much irritation and aggression as they could let out without killing him. 

Always without killing him.

He was too valuable alive.

For now, anyway. Who knew what the future would bring, if the past few hours were any giveaway. Their frustrations were growing, words becoming sharper, the long they went without any sort of response to the demands they had sent out earlier. Things were becoming more dangerous, more graphic. Maybe they should send an ear, a finger, something to show they were serious. A video, a phone call, something more emotional than the picture that had been sent with a hastily put together letter.

Amateurs. 

San tried to shift, settle himself into a more comfortable position before more muscles painfully cramped up, but the foot on his back pressed down harder until his forehead nearly touched the concrete. 

"Thought we said to stop moving. What's the point of havin' those ears if they ain't gonna listen? Hey, pass me the knife."

He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cower, of seeing him beg. He would not yell, would not scream. San stared at the floor beneath him, doing his best not to flinch at the cold steel that rested against his ear. If tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, he refused to let them fall. Hate burned in his stomach, hot and fierce, curses and blame echoing around unspoken in his mind. Hatred towards the men responsible, crowding around him with smirks and snickering, wondering how long it would take to break him. Hatred towards his own weakness at being caught unaware, of not doing more to fight for his freedom. Hatred at the silence that had followed their demands, leaving him to fend for himself.

"Oh. This isn't the bathroom."

Silence, heavy and thick, settled over the room. He would be surprised if anyone was breathing with how still everything became. The knife lowered, settled against his shoulder still so dangerously close to his throat. San didn't move, didn't dare to look up. Not when his life still hung so precariously by a thread. He heard a muttered, "the fuck?" from somewhere behind him, a shuffling of feet as someone moved forward.

"I don't know what your problem is, but we're in the middle of somethin' so-" The rest of the words were cut off, slurred into a gurgle that mixed with shocked gasps and curses, people shifting uneasily on their feet. 

"I'm looking for a little help, is all. Maybe you folks could help me."

A shiver ran down San's spine, his heart racing away in his chest as something cold and icy clawed at his insides. Fear, he realized a second later. As innocent as words and tone were, they were a threat. A dangerous one San had little difficulty believing despite having not seen what was happening. He hadn't been terrified of the goons that had kidnapped him. Scared a bit, sure. Who wouldn't be when their life hung in the balance? But something about the voice, about the presence that seemed to take over the room, was ten times worse than anything the gang could have hoped to achieve.

"Don't move! The bitch thought we weren't serious. I'll kill him. One step closer, and he's dead!"

San grit his teeth as a hand tangled in his hair, jerking his head back to expose his neck, the knife pressing ever closer. The muscles in his body protested at the rough change of position, tears springing to his eyes as his back screamed in pain. At least now he could see, though maybe his view of the concrete was a better sight.

One of the men- the one that had moved earlier- was spasming on the ground drenched in his own blood, the skin of his throat ragged and torn. It was everywhere. Smeared along the skin of his face, dying his clothes, stretching the puddle beneath him that was slowly growing. He took gasping, wheezing breaths, accented by a bubbling gurgle as he drowned in his own blood. 

The newcomer stood next to the injured man, not seeming to mind the blood that pooled around his feet or the droplets that had splattered across his face. In fact, he lifted a hand, swiping a thumb over his own cheek and leaving a smear of red, licking the blood off his thumb, never taking his eyes off of the group before him. San could only imagine the amount of spray that drenched the black leather outfit the stranger was wearing, the hat that sat on his head doing little to protect him from anything other than the dulled lights overhead, eyes seeming to glow in the shadows. Light accessories, thin chains that looked more for aesthetic than any true purpose, caught in the light as he tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck in a way San could only consider taunting, a grin splitting across his face.

"I think there's a bit of miscommunication." In the half a second it took to blink the man was gone, hat drifting before settling on the ground, the pressure from the knife gone from San's neck. He felt the breeze, saw the man's long coat brush by in his peripheral, but it still took a moment for his brain to catch up. To close that much distance in such a short time... it had San's eyes widening, attention turning as much as possible to the sudden presence at his side. The man had leaned in close to his captor, one hand around his throat, the other around the wrist of the hand holding the knife. "I don't work for anyone." Words whispered against the shell of the asshole's ear, barely audible to San if it weren't for how close they were.

A sharp crack echoed around the immediate area, San's captor letting out a cry as his grip on the knife loosened, untangling his other hand from San's hair to claw at the hand still wrapped around his wrist, pressure tight and unyielding. Despite the struggle going on in his grip, the newcomer didn't budge, didn't twitch, just kept his grip firm with a smile on his face. It was... more than a little unsettling, more than a little weird, but San didn't question it as he tried to get his feet under him, tried to put at least a couple feet of distance between him and the men that had been tormenting him the entire night.

He barely made it to his feet before he was falling, legs refusing to work, refusing to hold his weight. The cry that left him was more out of frustration than pain, San taking sharp inhales through his nose with how hard his teeth were clenched.

"What are you assholes standin' 'round for! Kill 'im!" There was no authority to the voice, just pure desperation and panic, pitch higher than San had heard all night. Everyone else in the room hesitated, their attention on the sudden intruder, torn between doing as told and saving their own skins. 

Everything began happening at once. More curses lit up the warehouse, weapons drawn. San tried his best to push himself along the floor, struggling to find purchase on the floor, his legs not moving how he wanted them to. Move, he yelled at himself, the edges of his sneakers barely pushing him away from the mass chaos before something slammed into his stomach, the wind knocked out of him with a gasp. San curled as tightly into himself as he could, choking on air, tears once again stinging his eyes. His ears rang with the sounds of gun shots, curses, and screams. Sickening sounds of bones snapping, flesh ripping, blood splattering the ground.

Maybe it was the stress, the ringing in his ears, but San swore he heard a laugh amidst it all. A loud ringing sound that any other time would have been bright and contagious. 

San stayed curled, protecting his vitals the best he could, eyes clenched shut as blood and god knows what else fell around him, fell on him. Every time something warm splashed against him he flinched, trying to draw tighter into himself, biting his lip to keep from making a sound and drawing attention to himself. He was unsure how much time had passed, how long he spent praying for everything to end, for blissful silence to settle and free him from whatever nightmare he had found himself in.

He flinched hard when something settled against his shoulder, trying to pull himself away, trying to kick whatever it was as far away from him as possible. It stayed on his shoulder despite his efforts, earning as close to a whimper as San allowed himself to make.

"Hey." The voice was too gentle, too soft for what had transpired moments ago. San cracked his eyes open, gaze darting before landing on a very concerned, very bloodstained face. San jerked back, letting out a small pained cry from the sudden movement, immediately curling around himself once more. "Easy. Let me help." Something- San wasn't sure he wanted to know what- cut the ropes around his wrists, freeing his arms from the tense position they had been stuck in all night. "Take it slow. You'll be sore for a while."

San partially rolled onto his hands and knees, resting on one elbow, trying to keep the newcomer in his line of sight. Every part of him ached, screaming in protest at every little move he made. He tried to push it to the back of his mind, to gather himself to move, to fight back, to do whatever he needed to except accept whatever fate had in store for him. His heart continued to pound away in his chest, tight and twisting, sucking in deep lungfuls of air as he struggled to compose himself.

It didn't last long when he finally got a look at what had happened to his captors. Blood was everywhere, staining more surfaces than San would have thought possible, the amount of it so absurd he would have likened it to a b-rated horror film if he had his wits about him. That wasn't what had caught his attention, though. It was the bodies strewn across the floor. Faces twisted into masks of terror, eyes wide and unseeing. It was hands twisted into claws that grasped at nothing. It was the last traces of a wet breath before someone went still, succumbing to wounds and blood loss. It was carnage he had never been witness to before, a destruction not possible by one man alone, at least not as quickly as had been done that night.

His head ducked as he retched up what little was in his stomach, body shaking from a variety of things San didn't want to try to place. Smells were too sharp, too overwhelming, threatening to swallow him whole.

A hand rubbed up and down his back comfortingly, another drawing him up and away from the mess he had made.

"Di-did you...?" His throat felt like sandpaper, the words rough to force out, but the meaning must have gotten through. The man looked proud of himself, a hint of a smile gracing his face, chest puffing out just the tiniest bit. 

Gentle fingers brushed at some blood that had splattered against San's cheek, the comfort of touch along his spine gone. "They won't be threatening any more ears."

San shut his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart, trying to collect himself, taking one deep breath after the other as he lifted a hand- one that felt like lead, like it wasn't attached to his body- to pinch at the bridge of his nose. His mind kept screaming at him that this was all wrong. A man who had brutally torn apart a handful of people was being sweet to him, reassuring him. Something about it kept ringing alarm bells in his head, but he was so damn tired. So fucking tired and sick of the last few hours that had somehow managed to take his already shitty day and make it worse. It was too easy to ignore the warnings, leaning a little into the arm still supporting him.

"Are you alright? We should get you out of here."

"Give me a minute."

There was something amusing in the hum that came from the man, hand returning to rub up and down his spine. San tried to focus on that instead of everything else, finding little things he could use to ground himself. It had usually been something he was relatively good at. Taking the problems that assaulted him and pushing them aside until he was in a better situation to handle them. So much had happened within the last twenty minutes, let alone hours, that it took a little more work than usual to sort everything, get it carefully shoved to the side.

He took one final deep breath before opening his eyes. "Okay."

God, the pain that seared through his body when he tried moving. It was impossible to smother the wince or hiss as he got his feet under him and tried to stand. The hand on his back dropped to his waist, fingers curling into a belt loop to better help lift him. The other stayed curled around his chest, giving him something to lean on until San could slowly straighten out his back. Again, he had to take a moment, testing the strength in his legs, properly adjusting to how little his body wanted to respond to him at the moment.

"I'll walk you home-"

"No." He would have been embarrassed at how quickly he answered if he had the energy. "Not that place. I-" His tongue darted out over dry lips. "I can't go back there right now." San turned, pressing his face into the man's shoulder and realizing too late how utterly soaked in blood he was. "Can I stay with you?"

"I'll have to blindfold you."

"I've had worse first dates." He didn't lift his face, didn't want to look at what sort of reaction his comment had gotten. His tendency to resort to humor in stressful situations had already gotten him into enough shit for the night. 

One gentle hand settled on his chin, tilting his head up. Reddish brown eyes met his own, a small frown tugging at the lips of the man. "You're sure?"

"I don't..." San trailed off, not sure what words he wanted to use. Opening up to a total stranger wasn't high on his list of priorities, and though the haze of adrenaline had faded his body still thrummed with a nervous energy he didn't know how to get rid of, body shaking probably having something to do with the hint of pity he saw hidden in those worried eyes. "Anywhere I go, I risk running into trouble." It wasn't a total lie, even if it wasn't the entire truth, either. "I don't want to go home, and I don't... I don't want to be alone."

The man's head tilted to the side, and San could practically see the gears turning inside of his head. He was about to brush it off, tell him not to worry about it, he'll figure something out, when the man pulled away. San watched his every move, wondering if he had been shot down. The man meandered a short distance away, picking up the hat that had been long forgotten before making his way back over, brushing the dust and dirt from the brim. He smiled, something warm and comforting that any other day would have had San's heart melting, settling the fedora on top of San's head. One of San's hands lifted, running over the fabric of the brim, a little confused until something settled over his eyes. He froze, not daring to so much as breathe until he could lift a hand, fingers running over fabric. Oh. The blindfold. He released the breath he had been holding, though some of the tension still remained in his body. Hands settled on his wrists, guiding him. San stumbled, half out of concern for not being able to see where he was going or what was in his way, and half out of distrust despite his earlier convictions.

This was still someone who had slaughtered a group of people so easily.

This was still someone he had just met.

Oh, of course now his mind decided it was the best time to hit him with how terrible and stupid an idea this was. Stupid Choi San, once more letting his emotions run him into a wild situation. His mom would never let him hear the end of it if she knew.

"Here." A small squeak left San at the sudden pull forward, bumping and bending into something solid. "It'll be easier if I carry you on my back."

Oh.

That wasn't... as bad as he thought, but neither did it help calm any of the fears floating through his mind. No, not fears. More like... frustrations at himself for getting into one thing after the other. If he didn't end up added to the kill count by the end of the night, San would consider it a miracle. The fingers of one hand brushed against the man's back, trailing along rough fabric until his fingers eventually reached the curve of a shoulder. San could feel muscles moving beneath his hand, twitching at his touch, shifting as the man moved to accommodate him laying across his back. Despite knowing what was going to happen, San was still caught unprepared when hands settled on his thighs and the man shifted upwards, jolting San up to adjust his hold and intertwine his hands together beneath San.

San's arms tightened around his neck, nothing that would cut off air flow, but enough to get a curious pause from the stranger. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Peachy. Just blindfolded and on the back of a total stranger who just murdered like seven men."

"Six. And you can back out at any time. I'll walk you home."

"You don't even know where I live."

"Do you still want to go through with this?"

He was being given an out, a chance to change his mind, and San hesitated. How many more men were waiting for him? For an opportunity to use him? How soon would it be before whoever hired the men came to check on them and realized what had happened? New anxieties plagued him, his heart rabbiting away in his chest. No option available was a good one. Nothing kept him from some amount of trouble. Was there even a lesser of two evils? Or just whatever poor decision his brain settled on first?

It was not a night where self-preservation instincts made themselves known.

"Yeah," San breathed into what he assumed was a shoulder. "Yeah, I do. Just... talk to me while we walk." He felt the hum he got in return vibrate against his chest, a rumble that was almost comforting if he didn't put into any thought as to who was making it. Fingers curled into the fabric on the man's shoulders, the brim of the hat settling awkwardly with how close they were.

"So..." San thought he heard his name tacked onto the end there, a trick his ears were playing on him, because that was impossible. He hadn't given his name. "What's your favorite food?"

He couldn't help the snort that left him, lips quirking up, falling just as quickly as they had rose. "That's your idea of small talk?"

"I don't see you doing any better. You made a first date joke."

"I did."

"So? What's your favorite food?"

"Steak." After a moment's pause he added, "And pizza."

There was a hum from beneath him, and if San had to put an emotion to it, he'd almost say it sounded amused. "I can order pizza when we get to my place."

"Oh so the delivery person can know where you live, but I can't?"

"Delivery person wasn't kidnapped, and didn't witness a murder."

"How do you know I'm not a delivery person? Some people would kill for some delicious food brought to their door. Kidnapping doesn't seem like too far a stretch."

"This side of town?"

"Maybe I started in the really ritzy neighborhoods. With the people who can afford a real nice meal."

"And you got kidnapped, why? So your kidnappers could enjoy a fancy meal?"

"I've seen people hurt for less."

There was a snort, not disbelieving like he was expecting, but more amused. "I'm sure you have, San." This time it was impossible to miss or brush aside. That had been his name, uttered from the lips of a person he had not shared it with. It rolled uneasy through his stomach, hands itching to reach up and yank the blindfold off, to demand an explanation as to how the other knew his name. If he noticed the way San's heart sped up in his chest, or the way his arms tightened around his neck, the man did a good job of ignoring it.

"Why?" His voice was quieter than he would have liked, but there was little use hiding the suspicion that lined his tone.

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you kill me with the rest of them?"

"You're a victim, San. I don't kill victims."

This time it was San who snorted. "I'm no innocent kid."

"I never said you were. I said you were a victim."

That almost settled more uneasily over him than his name did, question upon question rising to the front of his mind. Who was this man? Who was he working for? What awaited San when they reached their final destination? His mom had always told him to be cautious, to be careful, to only trust a small handful of people. And he had thrown all that out the window, had agreed to go with a complete stranger just because he didn't want to face the wrath of his mother. San sucked in a breath, leaning back until he was sitting straight, fingers curling tight into the man's shoulders. "Who are you?"

"Yunho. Jeong Yunho."

The name didn't ring familiar, but San made a mental note to follow up with it later, to find out exactly who his savior was. If he lived that long. "That answered part of my question."

"I'm... I guess you could call me a vigilante? I help people."

"By killing."

There was a small pause, but Yunho didn't sound embarrassed or ashamed when he did speak up next, continuing to talk with a tone like they were having an every day conversation. "Yes, by killing."

"Sounds like the opposite of helping people."

"The world isn't black and white, San-"

"I know," he cut in, tone a little sharper than intended. "I don't need a lecture on morality."

Thankfully, Yunho didn't press the subject, just gave a little nod. "The people I help would have died if I hadn't stepped in. It's not the cleanest work, but they get to live another day."

"I wasn't going to die."

"Weren't you? There was a knife against your ear when I walked in."

San opened his mouth to argue, wanting to shoot back that there was no way his mom would have let him die. They had talked about it as a rhetorical, a what if neither of them ever thought would actually happen. He understood, even if it caused a boiling unfairness to bubble away in his stomach. He understood, even if it caused a trickle of fear to creep up the back of his neck at the realization that he had come close. That there had been a silence that would have signed his fate had Yunho not stepped in. He trusted his mom, he had to, but the weight of what ifs and possibilities settled on his shoulders in a way that hurt, pressing down until the words that went unsaid choked him.

It was a different sort of fear. The kind that came with hindsight, showcasing the little things that had almost gone so terribly wrong. It brought with it an unyielding hole deep in his chest, something he had gotten used to over the years, but had managed to grow ever larger with the brief exchange he had with Yunho. The kind that came with reflecting on his lack of friends, his lack of connections. How the only worthwhile person in his life was his mother, who couldn't even be bothered to give a response to a kidnapper.

"We're here. I'm going to set you down, okay?" There was nothing he could do but nod, sliding from Yunho's back until his feet touched the ground. His fingers hovered over the fabric of Yunho's sleeve for a second before dropping, San using every ounce of will power he had not to reach up or reach out, trying to seem confident when every inch of his mind was screaming at him that the situation he had placed himself into was a terrible idea. 

The dark that swam his vision and the whispers that had plagued him the entire walk over had every muscle in his body tense, waiting for something to jump out, for some pain he didn't see coming. It put him at an edge he didn't like, toeing a chasm in his chest that brought with it nothing but the echoing feeling of isolation, demons lurking in the dark to snap at his heels. San wasn't a stranger to loneliness. He had spent his entire life without a solid friend by his side, always looking over his shoulder, always wondering when the next viper would strike, but not being able to see, not being able to feel the presence of another person at his side brought forth fears and nightmares he had spent too long pushing to the side.

It made the crushing weight of abandonment all the more real within his chest, shattering ribs until the splinters pierced his lungs and made breathing difficult.

His breath locked in his throat, seconds dragging on like hours until something ghosted along the small of his back. San gave a sharp hiss, twisting away from the contact, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Once again he felt fear dig its icy talons into his chest, heart beating hard enough it was a miracle it didn't leap from his chest. Strong hands steadied him, drawing him out of his mind long enough to catch the words floating into his ears.

"You okay?" Yunho sounded genuinely concerned, fingers flexing along San's back.

San took a shaky breath, brushing by Yunho as quickly as he could with his hands groping in front of him until fingers brushed against the cold metal of a doorframe. Only when he was sure he was a couple steps in, fingers curling tight for support on a thin metal bannister, did San reach up, fumbling with the blindfold before frustration took root, giving an annoyed growl before ripping it down to settle around his neck. "I'm never wearing that damn thing again." He paced a few steps away, unsteady on his feet, before turning and making his way back, running his hands through his hair, eyes darting as he focused on taking in as much of the place around him as he could.

Hands settled on either side of his face, tilting his gaze upwards into concerned eyes. "Breathe, San." If he were in any decent state of mind, San would have recoiled at the touch, putting distance between him and Yunho. With his mind currently a mess, too many thoughts and emotions mixing together, all he could do was openly stare at the other, taken aback by how a total stranger was showing more empathy for him than anyone else had in his entire existence. 

He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes and letting himself sink into the touch. A thumb brushed across his cheek, leaving a line of tingling sensation in its path. Yunho's other hand lifted, slowly dragging itself through San's hair. If he were any other person, the lack of adrenaline coursing through his body, the gentle touches, it might all have sent the pressure building up inside of him coursing out in tears and stuttered breaths. But he wasn't any other person. He was Choi San, and he forced as much of it down as he could, taking a blissful second to steady himself. 

When fingers settled at the edge of his scalp again, San pulled back, clearing his throat. "I'm okay." He wasn't, but he couldn't let himself fall into too much comfort, couldn't let himself be swept away by ministrations he would never receive again. From the look Yunho gave him, still concerned, wanting to call him out on his bullshit, it was clear he didn't believe it, either. "I'm okay." His voice a little steadier, a little firmer. Yunho gave a pause before nodding, digging through a pocket for a key while he led the way farther into the building.

"I'll order some pizza, but I _really_ need to shower. What do you want? San?"

"Sorry. Uh, pepperoni and sausage is fine."

"Cool. Make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

What was he supposed to do? Kick his feet up on the couch and dig into Yunho's netflix watch list? San toed his shoed off, stepping farther into the home. It wasn't the largest space he had seen, but neither was it terribly small. It was just the right space for one man, offering movement without overcrowding. He didn't know what he expected walking into the apartment, but it wasn't something that was so... ordinary. It was obviously lived in, dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, bags sitting on a little table off to the side. Mail, magazines, and some books were stacked on a coffee table in the living room, tv stand housing an assortment of different gaming systems, dvds, and knick knacks. There was a lack of blood, a lack of dark, everything so damn normal that San could only stand in the living room and look around, sure he had entered some weird twilight zone.

The shower started up the same time San finally allowed himself to sink into a corner of the couch, tilting his head back against the cushions. The many emotional ups and downs he had been on within the past couple of hours were catching up to him, mind and body exhausted, a weight he finally allowed himself to feel. If he weren't in an unknown place, a total stranger not that far from him, San might have allowed himself to actually relax, to unwind and sink into his usual comforts. For now, he kept a healthy amount of tension in his muscles, half of his attention focused on the sounds of the shower, the other allowing him to sort through his next steps.

Despite the circumstances of their meeting, Yunho didn't seem like that bad of a person. It was only the suspicion his mother had drilled into him, to question the motives of anyone he didn't personally know, that whispered in his ear wondering what sort of ulterior motives were at play. Anyone who was looking to take advantage of him wouldn't have cared in the same ways Yunho had. Not unless they were looking to play a long game, and if that were the case, San had to applaud Yunho's acting skills.

He sighed, letting his eyes fall closed, the constant back and forth debating with himself exhausting him almost more than the events that had transpired. For once, San would have loved to not have to constantly worry about his situation or well-being. To be able to breathe and go about his life like any other person. No more constantly looking over his shoulder, or questioning motives, or having potential friends scared off, but life refused to give him the one thing he wanted.

A finger poked his nose, dragging down the bridge of it and settling between his eyes. "You get lost in your own head a lot, don't you?"

San opened his eyes, blinking up at Yunho. The other man looked half concerned, half amused, bouncing between the two like he couldn't tell how he has supposed to feel for San, hair still wet and clinging to his face. Something uncomfortable crawled through his chest, prompting him to sit up and swat Yunho's hand away. It rooted itself in his ribcage as he gave a quick once over, trying not to think too much on the wet hair, the flushed cheeks, the tshirt that hung from his shoulders and the sweatpants that clung to his hips.

"You look..."

"Handsome?" Yunho straightened up, flicking short stands of hair away from his face as he offered a proud smile and not so subtle eyebrow wiggle.

"Normal."

Shoulders slumped, the smile faltering. "Oh."

"I just witnessed you murder seven-"

"Six."

"-people. Seeing you in a tshirt and sweats doesn't exactly line up with that image."

"What did you expect? Something out of a horror movie? All cement walls, dim lights, My Chemical Romance playing in the background?" Hearing it out loud like that caused an embarrassed red tint to color San's cheeks, attention pulling away from Yunho as he found a spot on the couch suddenly so very interesting. Yunho gave a laugh, and San was saved from any further embarrassment by their pizza arriving. The minute or two of Yunho's attention off of him gave San time to gather a cushion into his arms, burying his face into the fabric.

The couch dipped, the smell of pizza taking over the living room. "Did you want to shower or at least change before we eat?"

He would be lying if he said no. Blood still clung to his skin, stained his clothes, and there was a lingering feeling of grime coating his entire body San didn't think a single shower would fully wash away. "Do I look like I have a fresh change of clothes with me?" He hadn't meant for it to come out like it did, sharp and tinted with the embarrassment that still clung to him.

"You can borrow some of mine." 

"Excuse me?"

"They'd be a little big, but I don't mind. I have some extra tshirts laying around."

"Do you normally offer your clothes to total strangers, or only the ones you bring home?"

"If you don't want to take a shower, you can just say no. There's washcloths and soap for the blood, and I can still offer a clean shirt, at least."

Something sarcastic lingered on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill beyond his lips. A defense mechanism he had trouble controlling, something to hide the insecurities that plagued him like a second skin. Yunho had been nothing but kind and sincere from the moment he had helped him off the warehouse floor, even going so far as to order food and offer a change of clothes. He had dealt with the sarcarm and comments San had already thrown his way in stride, not seeming bothered by the attitude. Patient while San figured himself out.

"Yeah," he mumbled, pulling himself from the couch. "A shirt to change into would be nice. Cloths in the bathroom?"

"Cabinet next to the door. I'll get you a shirt, and get us some drinks while you clean up. Beer okay?"

"Beer's fine."

Nothing he could have imagined could have prepared for when San saw himself in the mirror, freezing in place. Cuts and bruises littered what skin could be seen, red and irritated, accented with dirt and grime. There were large splatters of blood that couldn't be his, hiding the original pattern on his shirt, marking him with remnants of the night. San didn't want to imagine what he looked like under his clothes, the sorts of bruises that would be forming, that would haunt him for days to come.

He turned his back to the mirror, finding the cabinet Yunho mentioned and rooting out a washcloch. San peeled his shirt off, fingers testing the temperature of the water as he waited for it to warm up by the time Yunho appeared with a shirt in his hands. He froze in the doorway, eyes widening. "Jesus, San. You look like you got hit with a truck." Despite his attitude up until the current moment, all San gave him in response was an eyebrow raise. "Do you want some help?"

"I'm fine."

"I can get your back-"

"I'm fine." San put more force to the words, shifting away from Yunho when the other reached out, taking the shirt and putting enough distance between them that Yunho would get the hint. He tried not to think about the dejected look Yunho gave him that bordered on hurt, the way his hands dropped to his sides. Tried not to think on how awkwardly he stood in the door before mumbling something about getting the drinks and leaving San on his own.

It didn't take long to get the blood and dirt cleaned from his skin, shrugging his way into the too big tshirt. San stared at himself in the mirror, fingers curled around the edge of the counter, sure there were at least five showers in his future. At least he felt somewhat clean now, giving a sigh before finally pulling himself from the bathroom and back towards the living room. Yunho had seated himself in one corner of the couch, an open bottle of beer sitting in the crook of his knee and a slice of pizza in one hand, the box sitting open on the middle cushion. San settled into the other corner, pleasantly surprised to see a drink waiting for him, cap still secured and a bottle opener sitting near by.

It was quiet as they both nibbled on their slices, awkward with how the conversation in the bathroom had gone. Some amount of minutes passed before San spoke up, not bothering to glance at Yunho as he grabbed another slice of pizza. "How do you know my name?"

Yunho blinked, cheeks puffed out with food, taking a second to process what San had asked. He finished chewing, taking a sip of his drink before he answered. "I'd be surprised if there was anyone who didn't know the Choi's."

"And you still let me live? Knowing who I am?"

"The sins of the parents don't belong to the child, San." There was something soft in the look tossed his way, a look that again caused something to settle in his chest, twisting around his heart. "Just because your mom has her hands in some... far from savory work doesn't mean that you're just as bad as she is. It doesn't mean you deserve to die or be kidnapped or whatever. You're your own person. You make your own choices. I said it before. You're a victim, San. You were hurt, and who your mom is doesn't mean you deserved that any more than anyone else."

San... didn't know how to take those words, how to process someone telling him he wasn't like his mother, that just because she chose to involve herself in something didn't mean that he was automatically associated with it. For too long he had dealt with the consequences, the what ifs, living his life according to how his mother played hers. Following her rules, her wants, her always finding a way to destroy what he had managed to cobble together. Friends that would disappear from his life, associations and relations built from her reputation. People who made their own assumptions based on fabrications and what they knew of his mother. People that scorned him, hunted him, used him, all because of what his last name was, because of who his family was.

And here was this complete stranger, someone he hadn't known for longer than an hour or so, telling him he hadn't deserved what had happened to him. Who knew who his mother was, her status within the city, and didn't blame him for her underhanded methods, who didn't try to use him, twist him. Who saw him instead of his family name.

He lowered his hands to his lap, staring at nothing in particular though his brows wrinkled, whatever had settled in his chest twisting more, digging its claws in until San was sure it wouldn't let go. 

"I need to go."

"San?"

San set everything to the side, moving too quickly for his body to handle as he stood, nearly stumbling into the coffee table in his haste. "Thanks. For the help, but I- I gotta go."

"San?" Yunho half rose out of his seat. San didn't look at him, couldn't look to see what sort of expression Yunho was making. It'd only make things worse than they already were. Continue to break down walls that he had carefully crafted. "Was it something I said?"

The tiniest bit of affection. All it took was the tiniest bit of someone caressing him, caring for him, for him to break. How pathetic was he? Was that all it took for him to forget years of experience, years of training and knowing better? One single person spouting a couple nice words? It wasn't worth it. It had never been worth it. The momentary happiness that dissolved into nothing but pain. 

The apartment felt too small all of the sudden, too suffocating, the presence of another person at his back causing panic to well up too quickly. San stumbled to the door, barely getting his shoes on before he was making his way down the hall of the complex, Yunho's shouts and questions going unanswered. San didn't know if he was being followed, didn't particularly care if Yunho came running after him. He just... he had to get out of there. Out of the apartment. Out into fresh air.

Down one block, and then two, his feet barely able to support him. No one called out to him. No one tried to grab him. The streets were as empty as they ever were so late at night. That was to say anyone who usually roamed the streets knew better than to get involved, knew better than to stick their nose where it didn't belong.

His strength finally gave out down a street he didn't recognize, one hand flying to his mouth as he staggered into the side of a building, trying to choke back a sob that threatened to break loose. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, hot and wet, not taking much before they were streaking down his cheeks. "Shit. Shit shit shit fuck." There was no holding it back anymore. No amount of biting his lip or trying to get his breathing under control did anything to stop the tears or the cries, his body finally reaching a point where it couldn't keep pushing everything away. 

San hated himself for it. 

For his weakness.

For breaking.

For coming so close to allowing himself to believe he could have one moment of peace and something that settled close to contentment. 

He stopped trying to hold it back, stopped trying to gather himself into something resembling a human being. San let himself cry. He let himself mourn the things he couldn't have, the life he could have lived. He let himself cry for the earlier brush with death, the fear that had settled into his throat for hours before he had been saved. He let himself break, no amount of glue or force able to hold him together anymore, knowing he would have to pick up the pieces and move on, have to slowly assemble himself back together with no help but his own.

The same as it had always been.

The same as it would always be.

...

Tears had run dry by the time someone from his mom's gang managed to find him, probably acting on a tip someone had mentioned, the line of gossip and rumors never sleeping. Any other time, he might have been amused at how often gang work consisted of following up on rumors with barely any substance to them. For the moment, he was numb, exhausted, mind hazy and wishing he could just curl up somewhere and sleep, consequences be damned. A part of his mind, somewhere in the back he wasn't giving much thought to, knew it wouldn't be that easy. 

He slid into the back seat of the car, not even bothering to look to see who had been tasked with picking him up. It didn't matter in the long run. They had their orders, and nothing he could say would change that. He could certainly try, though.

"Take me home." San was tired, exhausted, and it reflected in how mumbled his words were, head leaning back against the headrest and eyes closing for some momentary relief.

"You know I can't do that."

It didn't make it any easier to hear. 

The rest of the ride was one sided conversation, his driver trying to get what information he could from San in the form of easy conversation while he remained silent. Part of him wondered how much trouble he'd get into if he jumped out of the car, found his own way back home instead of being left at the mercy of whatever orders his mother had given. It was an appealing thought, and though he lacked the energy to go through with it San still glanced out of the window to see if he recognized any of the streets or shops.

No amount of exhaustion could numb him from the knowledge of where he was being taken.

Of course. Of course out of all the places he could have been dragged to, of all the buildings his mother owned or could use, it had to be the club. Loud people, louder music, the vibrations from the bass pulsating throughout his entire body. At least the music rattled at the thoughts that had intruded on his mind, giving him something new to focus on. Granted, San didn't appreciate the pounding of his heart or the slowly bubbling irritation that came with being overstimulated. He wanted peace, he wanted quiet, he wanted a chance to relax, not to have to straighten his back and try to ignore the stares that followed him as he was directed to one of the vip booths, knowing he looked like absolute shit.

"I'll get you something to drink," his escort started, glancing in the direction of the bar after San had settled himself in a far from comfortable seat.

"No need." 

"Then something to eat-"

"I said no need." The words came out sharper than intended, and part of him rejoiced in seeing the older man stiffen under the tone, trying to keep a frown from pulling at his features. "How long until my mother comes to collect me?"

There was a moment of hesitation that San was used to when underlings were trying to figure out how much to tell him, how much was safe. He didn't appreciate it before, and he certainly didn't appreciate it now when his patience was already so thin. "She's in a meeting."

So it could be anywhere from half an hour to hours later. He snorted, pulling himself from the booth as quickly as he had sat down, feeling the exhaustion of the night tugging at every part of his body. "I'm going home."

"I've been instructed to keep you here-"

"I'm not wasting my night sitting at some shitty club waiting on my mom while she plays politics."

"I can't let you-"

There might have been a height difference, the man being a good couple of centimeters taller than him, but San knew he could be intimidating when he wanted to be, pushing forward into the man's face, letting every ounce of frustration and anger that bubbled in his gut find its way to the surface, painting him a scene of barely contained fury. "Are you going to stop me?" 

San held the man's gaze, not daring to blink. Out of everything he had faced, everything he had seen, all the chaos he had been shoved into, one man that would go tattling to his mom did not frighten him. Neither looked away from each other, eyes locked and a silent battle of wills raging until a smooth voice cut through their conflict. "I'll take him home."

Eye contact broke, both of them turning towards the new addition to their party. Not much taller than San himself, hair cut short, features stern and solid as he stared down the older man with an intensity that bordered intimidating. San wouldn't say it had been relief washing over him at the familiar face, some of the tension leaving his shoulders, but there was a weight that lifted with Geonhak taking his side.

"The Lady specifically instructed that he-"

"If you wish to fight with someone half your age and cause a scene in the middle of the club, be my guest."

For a moment San basked in how the older man's mouth flapped, struggling to find an argument that wasn't him repeating himself over and over. He didn't stick around to see what sort of excuses were given, brushing past both of the other men as he made his way back towards the entrance. No one tried to stop him, too caught up in their own debates and shock to do much but watch him weave through the crowds.

It didn't take long for a set of steps to fall in beside him, close enough for San to know it was Geonhak, not about to let him far on his own, but distant enough that San could push down the buzzing feeling of being overcrowded. Back into the night air, the scent of the neighborhood none too pleasant on his nose. Geonhak's hand ghosted along his arm, San yanking his arm back with a quiet yet strangled whine.

If Geonhak noticed how jumpy he was, how far from composed San actually was, he didn't comment on it. "The car is this way."

Back into another car. Back onto the streets of the city, familiar buildings flashing by. Only this time San didn't have to suffer through awkward conversation. It was one thing he liked about Geonhak. Despite the man actually working for his mother, the bodyguard was the closest person to a brother San had. They understood each other. Or, at least, Geonhak understood enough about San to know how to handle him and his moods, letting silence settle between them while quiet music drifted through the car. 

"Do you know what you're going to tell her?"

San glanced towards his driver, barely managing to get Geonhak into his line of vision before he was looking out the window again, head resting against the glass, hands limp in his lap. "What's there to tell?"

"She's going to want to know what happened."

"Yeah, I'd love to know, too."

"You're not sure?"

He offered a half hearted shrug, not caring how the action came across. "One minute I've got a knife to my ear, the next everyone is dead and I'm on the street."

Geonhak didn't immediately reply, but San could see the beginnings of a frown tugging at the other man's lips from the corner of his eye. He could see his hands tightening on the streeting wheel. Nothing else was said until they pulled into the garage of the house, key pulled from the ignition, and heavy silence blanketing them. Geonhak turned towards him, something soft in the gaze he leveled at San. "We've known each other for years. You know anything you tell me in confidence won't get back to your mother."

San sighed, closing his eyes. "I know." Geonhak had proven San could trust him time and time again, their bond closer to that of brothers than friends after the Choi's had taken Geonhak under their wing. It was a bond that San had always cherished, that meant more than him than he could ever voice. Geonhak had seem him through some of his lowest moments, had comforted him in what few ways San had allowed, had kept the secrets, the lows, the breaks to himself like he said he would. It was a trust, a bond, that San had tried to never take for granted.

Now was no different.

"There's just... a lot I need to figure out. I don't know how to explain what happened, Geonhak. I'm not sure what happened myself. Once I know, you'll be one of the first to know." 

San pulled himself from the car before his emotions could overwhelm him more than they already had that night, not sparing a backwards glance towards the other as he pushed inside the house. He hesitated near the bottom of the staircase, the trek to the top long and daunting, a feeling of isolation that hovered at the corner of his mind the longer San thought on heading to his room. He must have hesitated longer than he thought, gaze locked on the top of the staircase. He jerked when Geonhak's hand brushed against his arm, arms wrapping around himself as he pulled back, putting distance between them.

"I'm going to take a shower." Words mumbled, brushing past his bodyguard without so much as a single look, shoulders hunched with a weight that had been tugging at him for hours, San beginning to bend despite his best efforts to remain standing straight. 

The shower was a welcomed warmth, washing him of not only the remaining blood that dried to his skin, but also of the fear that had clung to the edges of his very being, snagging on every little thing and tearing at him more and more. It did little to help him pick up the pieces and tape himself back together, but it was a start. It gave him a place to begin working through organizing everything that had happened, gave him a place to not have to worry about someone overhearing the occasional sob or see the way his hands still managed to shake at the memories.

San stayed locked away in the shower for longer than he would have normally cared, forehead resting against the stone, letting water run down his body until the temperature turned cold. Only did then he finally step out, refusing to look at himself in the mirror, avoiding the constellation of bruises that extended beyond his chest. Maybe in a day or two, when things had fully settled, would he be able to confront it all. For now, he hesitated, Yunho's shirt soft in his hands, fingers ghosting over the fabric of the one thing that had gone right that night. 

The edge of the shirt covered most of his boxers as he made his way to the living room, Geonhak resting in a corner of the couch with a book in hand, though the tablet sitting precariously on the couch arm next to him told San his guard's attention was on security as much as it was on whatever was happening in the book. San sunk into the couch, curling up against Geonhak's side, seeking a different kind of warmth than what the shower offered. He nudged at the arm closest to him until it lifted, giving him room to press closer and room for the arm to settle across his shoulders.

"You make reading very difficult."

"I thought you were my bodyguard, not a librarian."

"Who says I can't be both?" 

"My mother, probably. I don't think she has much use for a librarian."

"Everyone has use for a librarian. They just don't know it."

San gave a huff, letting his eyes fall closed. "Poetic."

"Thank you."

The silence that fell between them was broken by the sound of turning pages and Geonhak's little sounds as the story progressed. While sleep continued to elude him, San allowed his eyes to rest, allowed himself to fall into the safety and comfort that only came with the trust he had placed in Geonhak. San ended up adjusting his position on the couch, curled on his side with his head in his friend's lap, blanket pulled to his chin, content with the fingers that occasionally dug into his scalp.

His peace was broken not much later, time a concept San refused to perceive as the sound of the garage opening and closing broke through the house. It could have been half an hour after he settled down, or hours, the night still dark beyond the windows. The sharp click of heels on hard flooring followed not long after, his mother's voice sharp, thick with an irritation he knew would only grow. "Where is he?"

Geonhak's fingers flexed against his shoulder, a warning he didn't need but appreciated none the less. "Ma'am-"

"I asked a question. Where is my son?"

With a sigh, San removed himself from his comforts, rising from the couch and turning to face his fuming mother. If it weren't for the murder blazing through her eyes, she would have looked every bit the image of put together business woman she fought to project. She raised an accusing finger, closing some of the distance between them. "Do you have any idea what sort of position you put me in?"

"Next time I'll schedule the kidnapping for when you're free. How does Wednesday sound?" San hadn't meant to get snippy, but seeing his mother furious, hearing the first things she said to him after his kidnapping being a complaint, he couldn't help it. They rolled off his tongue without much of a fight to hold them back, his own frustrations with the night rising to the surface.

"Don't you get smart with me. You disobeyed me. I told you to wait at the club-"

"While you were in a business meeting. Putting me on display after a goddamn _kidnapping_. Were you going to lift a finger to help me? Or just leave me to see if those assholes would carry through with their threats?"

"I had my best people working on it." But not herself personally. Not with such an important meeting to attend. "You were never in any real danger-"

"I had a knife to my ear!" Somewhere in all of their yelling Geonhak had stood, resting a hand on San's shoulder that he shrugged off, taking a shaking step towards his mother. "I had to listen to them complaining about how you couldn't even grace them with a response, and what they were going to do _to me_ to show they were serious! I had a fucking _knife_ to my ear! So, please! Tell me how I wasn't in danger! Tell me how your _best people_ were going to protect me! I'm all ears!"

That, at least, had stolen the words from her tongue. She stared at him, frustrations still simmering under the surface, fists clenched at her sides. When he spoke next, her words were more level, betraying how what San had said had caught her by surprise. "We're in a perilous position, San."

"No, _you_ are. I don't have any damn say in what happens. You make decisions, and I'm left to suffer the consequences. You piss people off, and they come after me, not you. So sorry if I have a hard time believing that you care one rats ass about what happens to me when your precious gang has all of your attention!" 

The second the words left his mouth, San knew he had gone too far. She winced, bringing her arms up to wrap around herself, taking a step back, conceding his victory though it did nothing but leave a bitter taste in his mouth. It was too late to take back what had been said, but the tension in the room shifted from heated to something colder, blanketing them in a chill that rivaled winter.

"I'm going to my room." He mumbled the words, brushing past Geonhak on his way to the stairs, not stopping until he had his door closed, leaning against it as the final bits of strength left him. The bed was too far, too vast for him to drag himself the rest of the way to it, sliding down the door until he could curl against it on the floor, knees drawn to his chest. Shaky breaths warmed his bare skin, teeth digging into his lower lip as San fought to keep what little composure he could, caught wishing for the last traces of a comfort he couldn't keep, blanketed in a shirt that did nothing but remind him of the things he couldn't have.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO BOY this took me a while to write due to some other obligations popping up. I hope the wait was worth it! I tried my hand writing some content I've never written before that I hope works well. As such, I'm not entirely sure how to go about tagging some of it, so if you feel something needs to be tagged, PLEASE let me know!!! 
> 
> This chapter literally went through like five different major changes and I had to cut some content due to length, but I hope y'all enjoy it~
> 
> I also recently published a Seongsang prequel that takes place in the same verse as Shaded. If you're interested in getting a little more demon lore and seeing how those two met, it's under the title Claimed! Shaded and Claimed have both also been added to their own series, Soul Bound, which will also include prequel fics for Woojoong and Jonggi.
> 
> cw// alcohol, forced (magical) drugging, san and yunho do not make smart decisions

Every inch of his body ached, squeezing his limbs in a bruising grip, making it hard to want to roll himself out of bed. Sleep had evaded him most of the night, dragging him closer and closer to an oblivion he could only dream of, always yanking him away from the edge right before falling under. Until he had eventually given up, the clock by his bedside reading a time that normal business people found the beginning of their day, while he normally cursed it as a time that shouldn't have existed. Exhaustion numbed him to the thoughts that carried over from the night before, making his trek down the stairs heavy and dragging, leading him to the kitchen for something to rid him of a sore throat and dry mouth. 

The light from the kitchen spilled into the hall, alerting San to who else had the same early morning thoughts. Not a huge surprise considering he was sure his mother slept as little as he did, too caught up in her work to maintain a healthy lifestyle. He didn't bother sparing her a glance, pulling a glass from the cupboard and rooting around in the fridge for something decent to drink. Coffee would have been perfect for waking him up, dragging him closer to something close to consciousness, but the time it took to brew a pot was time spent silent in the kitchen with his mother watching his every move.

"Morning, sleepyhead. I didn't expect to hear you up until noon at the earliest."

San snagged the first carton he found, not caring for the splatters of orange juice that hit the counter as he poured.

"We need to talk."

"I'm not in the mood."

"This isn't something either of us can avoid."

"Shouldn't you be at work?" He rounded on her, his irritation falling just as quickly as it had flared up. She sat at the island still dressed in her pajamas, hair down and not a trace of makeup decorating her face, hands curled around a cup of coffee. 

She raised a brow, silently questioning until San dropped his gaze, snatching his glass of juice and taking a sip. It was only then that she set her morning coffee to the side, holding her hands out, palms up, on the top of the counter, beckoning San closer. He grumbled, complaining to complain, before closing the distance between them, not bothering to rests his hands in hers. She didn't move, though, keeping them there where he could see.

"San, I am sorry for how last night went. I was angry and scared, and I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

He studied her, the genuine remorse that flashed across her face, the way her fingers flexed as she spoke. With a sigh, he set his own hands on top of hers, a smile curling her lips the same time her fingers gripped his, giving a gentle squeeze. 

"We always talked about kidnapping as a possibility, but no one had ever been brave enough, and to get word that someone had finally..." She paused to take a shaky breath, hands tightening around his again. " _I'm sorry_. You were right last night. I wasn't paying attention to how my decisions were effecting you, and I put you at risk thinking we could handle anything that happened. I told you the same things I told myself, and that was unfair. You were suffering, and as your mother I should have stopped at nothing to make sure you were safe."

It wasn't often that he got such a heartfelt apology from his mother. It wasn't often that he got much of anything from her, despite how close they had been years earlier. San's eyes flicked across her face, taking in the tension around her eyes and the strained smile she gave him. There wasn't anything that spoke of deception or insincerity, only an exhaustion that weighed on her shoulders. A weight that had been pressing against her for years and had yet to let up. Probably wouldn't let up.

San sighed, giving her hands a light squeeze. He moved to pull away, to go back to his juice and finish scrounging up the rest of his breakfast. She held on tight, drawing his attention back to her with a raised brow and the beginnings of a confused frown.

"There's one other thing I want to talk to you about."

He stiffened under the words, tension settling in his shoulders like it was a second home. Of course. Of course there was something else to it. He should have known there would be more to it than an apology. There usually was something hiding in her words, some request or demand he'd be roped into no matter what he said.

His mother must have seen the sudden shift in mood, squeezing his hands once more and leaning forward, quickly adding on to what she had already mentioned. "I know we've discussed it before, but I think it's time we revisit it. A bodyguard. San, I want you to have a bodyguard when you leave the house-"

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Not a babysitter. Someone to help watch your back. You can choose who. I know you'd rest easier knowing it was someone you approved of, and I'd rest easier knowing someone was there to help you if you need it. I don't know about you, but I am not eager for a repeat of last night. I already lost your father. I can't lose you, too."

It made logical sense. He knew that, and maybe that was why he hated the idea, wanted to reject it with sharp words and an even sharper exit from the kitchen. A bodyguard. San had hated the idea ever since she had brought it up a while back, citing it as nothing but a precaution. He had managed to talk her out of it then, agreeing to keep his head down, to stay out of trouble. Clearly that hadn't worked, and he knew that there would be no arguing out of it this time. Not with a kidnapping so fresh in everyone's memories.

The tension in his shoulders didn't leave as he gave a short, "Fine." The smile she gave him, brighter and more genuine than her earlier ones, was enough for his stomach to betray him, twisting his resolve away from wanting to fight. "But I pick Geonhak."

"I figured you might. You two have a special bond." She finally, blessedly, released his hands, allowing him to take his cup and retreat to the other side of the kitchen. "After last night, though, I think he deserves a chance to rest, don't you? How about, until Geonhak can join us, you and I spend the day together? We haven't had one of those in a while, and I miss our talks. We can go get breakfast and catch up. Like old times." She must have noticed the way his eyes narrowed, the way he kept the glass of juice to his lips without actually sipping. "I'll ask Youngjo to accompany us."

Youngjo was better than some other options. He minded his own business, let them have their privacy, while keeping an eye on the people around them. Quick to react with a smart head on his shoulders. San liked him, even if they didn't interact that much. Not for a lack of trying on Youngjo's part. San typically didn't have much to do with gang business, choosing to stay as far out of it as he possibly could. It was something he had grown to consider a buzz in the back of his mind, something that tainted his name, but something he didn't have an active part in. His mother could do what she wanted. He wanted as little to do with it as possible.

And yet, it still found its way back to him.

He eyed her, suspicion swirling in his chest, wondering if there was some side hustle to her suggestion. Another part of him wanted to believe it was sincere, that even for just a day they could fall back to their old routines, their old habits, smiles, and talks that drifted so fondly through his memories. 

"No work, no distractions. Just you and me. What do you say, San?"

The suspicion was still there, bubbling away at him, but San forced it down, forced it from the back of his mind to make way for the hope that for once they could spend a normal day together. "Okay, yeah. But only if we get breakfast at the diner by the old house."

A smile curled her lips, the brightest she had been since their conversation had began. "Deal."

Getting ready had never been a drawn out occasion for San. A morning skin routine, piecing together an outfit, maybe a shower depending on how his night went. Not particularly in that order. His mother, though, he had learned early on in his childhood, could take her sweet time if she felt so inclined. It was how San found himself sprawled across the couch, Youngjo sitting in a chair opposite of him, watching the minutes on his phone drag by, the tell tale sounds of moving around the floor above him the only sign that his mother was still in the process of puttering around upstairs.

"If you take any longer, breakfast will be over!" He meant it to be nothing but a complaint, a bid to push his mother to move faster, but he couldn't help the whine that laced the words, pulling a smile from Youngjo the other tried to hide behind his phone. San gave the man a glare, sinking farther down into his seat on the couch. If anyone asked, he would refuse to admit any coloring to his cheeks or the embarrassment that flooded his chest. It would have been one thing if it had been Geonhak witnessing it, someone San had spent enough time around, had grown up around. Youngjo, at least, could be trusted to keep his mouth shut.

He opened his mouth, prepared to yell out another comment, another berate against how long it took his mother to get ready when a hand slid through his hair, messing up the strands with a teasing touch. San ducked out of the way of the touch, giving his mom a huff and a purse of his lips.

"It doesn't hurt to take a second to breathe, San." Her tone was kept light, the smile on her face making her intentions to tease clear. "Honestly, I thought out of everything from your childhood you'd outgrow your impatience. You take after me too much." She leaned over him, giving one of his cheeks a pinch, smile widening into a grin. "Are you boys ready?" Her gaze drifted from San to Youngjo as the two of them uncurled from where they were seated. 

For once in his life, San could consider himself more well dressed than his mother. She had traded blazers and blouses for a soft sweater and jeans, hair pulled back into a high ponytail, only the faintest traces of make up on her face. San, meanwhile, had abandoned Yunho's oversized shirt in a corner of his room, leaving the comfort of his sleeping attire for a t-shirt and jacket worn down from years of use, dark jeans hugging his legs. 

"Not going to wear the leather jacket today?" his mother quipped, raising a brow. "I think this is one of the first times we've gone out and you haven't worn it."

"It got ruined the other night."

Something soft and almost pitying settled across her face, her fingers gently brushing his arm. "We can get another one. I know how much you liked it."

"It's fine. It's just a jacket."

"It wasn't." The beginnings of a frown tugged at her lips, the soft look dropping into something a bit sharper, San's feigned indifference not going unnoticed. "We can talk about it later. We have the entire day ahead of us. Youngjo, do you mind getting the car?"

The drive to their usual restaurant- a small place they had discovered not long after moving to the city, the staff friendly and food good- was where San found out his mother had the entire day available. She had cancelled or rescheduled any appointments, intent on being able to spend the day with him like they had when he was younger, nothing truly planned except for their breakfast. San didn't expect to go the entire day interrupted, knowing there was always something that needed to be done, some emergency that came up, but he let himself enjoy the moment, let himself get lost in the feeling of things being close to normal. 

Breakfast was the same as it always was when they found time to sit down together. They teased each other, bringing up old conversations or embarrassments, flicking straw wrappers and bits of fruit across the table as they pouted and whined. It was nice. It was a relief, a distraction from the thoughts that plagued his mind. It was nice to be able to relax for once, to enjoy a moment without wondering when it would break, when the other shoe would drop. His mom had always been rather good at that, drawing him out of his mind and giving him something else to focus on, letting him get lost in the moment instead of the past. 

Work never came up.

His mom asked questions normal parents pestered their children with, ones she normally reserved for the moments they had more than a handful of minutes to spare with each other. Was he seeing anyone? No. Did he have anyone he was interested in? Another no. Had he put any thought into going to university? Not many more than he had the last time she had asked. But for each annoying question, his mom had a good natured response. When she was his age she couldn't keep her eyes off the people she was interested in. It had landed her in trouble on more than on occasion. Did she ever tell him the story of how she met one of her earlier boyfriends? No? 

Somewhere in the middle of their breakfast, Geonhak appeared, relieving Youngjo of his duties as bodyguard and taking his place at the counter, cup of coffee in hand.

Breakfast lasted for longer than San would have thought possible, a couple of hours drifting by quickly with their continued conversation. It was broken by the sound of his mother's cell phone vibrating. She spared the screen a quick look, frown tugging at her lips, before silencing the ringer and turning back to San. She held her hands out across the table, and it didn't take a genius to see what she wanted. San eyed her, not quite sure he knew what was going through her head, not quite sure he wanted to know. Still, he reached his hands out, setting them on top of hers. 

Her hands gave his a squeeze, lips quirking into the beginnings of a smile that fell just as quick. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Ah.

" _Anything_ , San. I promise you I won't freak out. I won't yell, I won't get upset. We're two adults who can handle the things in our lives accordingly. I just... I just want you to know I'm always here for you, no matter what."

His breath caught in his throat, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth as he recalled his doubts from the other night. The fear, the hurt, the uncertainties that had plagued his mind until they choked him. The anger that had burned in his stomach. The only defenses he had to keep him from falling farther. The memory of it all came back until guilt crashed through him and his fingers twitched in his mother's grasp.

It wasn't that San doubted her. For years, the only people they had to rely on were each other. The only people they could fully believe in were each other. If they didn't look out for each other, if they didn't have each other's backs, then there was no one else they could trust. And he had doubted the trust that they had built between each other, the trust that had always been so important to them. The guilt from that moment of weakness buried its claws in his stomach, in his chest, twisting enough to drop his voice to a whisper.

"I know." It wasn't a lie. Despite their occasional differences in opinion, in the work that often pulled her away, his mother had always done her best to be there for him in whatever ways she could. Being a supportive shoulder, ranting with him, joking around with him. There was barely a moment where he thought he couldn't go to his mom. 

Until the other night.

Until he had let a moment of weakness cloud his judgement and twist everything he knew into shadows waiting to jump out at him.

"I'm sorry. About the other night. It... A lot happened, and I-" He paused to take a breath, hating how it rattled in his chest.

"I think we need to sit down and have a heart to heart about what happened. Later tonight when we're not sitting in the middle of a diner. Deal?"

He nodded, giving her hands a squeeze. "Deal."

It was rather unfortunate that their touching mother-son moment was ruined by her phone screen lighting up, the name of her second in command flashing across the screen and accented with a trilling ringtone. His mother's expression changed in an instant, the understanding smile she had been directing at him dropping to a frown as she studied the phone.

"You should answer that." 

"She knows I set aside all of today for you."

"Then it has to be important." San would be lying if he said there wasn't a part of him that was bitter at the early interruption. It was supposed to be a day for just him and his mom. A chance for them to catch up and have fun with each other. A rare opportunity with how responsibilities seemed to nip at her heels more and more each day, pulling her attention away from him and onto more pressing matters. San understood, even if he didn't like it. He could be reasonable and mature about it, despite the bitterness that ate at him from the inside.

She fixed him with a look, studying him for a second before giving a sigh, excusing herself from the table to step somewhere a little more private. San could still hear the sharp, "Yes?" his mom gave as she exited the restaurant.

He leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face, barely cracking open an eye as Geonhak moved from the counter to the seat his mother had vacated, his long legs knocking against San's. "You could have told her to ignore it."

San was thankful that Geonhak kept his tone neutral. It wasn't a secret that Geonhak wasn't exactly his mother's biggest fan, and San couldn't hold it against him. Not when he understood the history between his brother and his mother. There was too much bitterness, too much anger for either of them to pretend things were okay. They had long since come to an agreement to speak about his mother as little as possible, or as neutrally as possible, focusing on better topics than something that would send them into an argument or bring up memories and emotions better left buried.

"We both know it was only a matter of time." 

Geonhak only gave a hum, reaching across the table to steal a bite of San's eggs. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

"Honestly? Not really. Probably go back home and play games or watch tv. I don't really feel up to meandering the city."

"Good. Makes my job easy." 

San flicked a piece of lettuce across the table, watching it bounce off of Geonhak's cheek, dragging smiles from the both of them, as quick and miniscule as they were. It wasn't much longer after that San's mom reappeared, sliding her phone in her back pocket and giving the two boys an apologetic smile. One that told San what she was going to say before she could open her mouth.

"I'm sorry. We're in the middle of this important business deal-" Something dark and irritated flashed across her face, and San felt a little better knowing that she was just as annoyed at the interruption as he was.

"It's fine."

"It's not, but can we raincheck the rest of the day? I'll make it up to you on movie night."

It wasn't as if he could argue it, even if he wanted to. San wouldn't say he had gotten used to having their plans interrupted, forced to give in because someone else always needed her attention more, needed her to look at something, needed her to make decisions. He hated it, resented the people who pulled her away from him. He just did a damn good job at making it seem like he was unphased, keeping his complaints buried deep inside of himself. Throwing a fit would do no good. It had never done any good. He had learned that the hard way years ago.

It did nothing but tear into the both of them, shredding parts of themselves in desperate attempts to make things better. He had gotten involved in things no kid should ever have been involved in. Seen things he had no right to see. All because he had clawed at his mother's heart for attention after his father had left them.

"Geonhak, keep him out of trouble. You know how he is." She leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of San's head. "I'll see you later."

And just like that she was gone, leaving the two of them alone. San pushed his plate across the table, a silent question asked in the way he raised a brow at Geonhak. He got a small shake of the head in return, neither of them not having much of an appetite anymore. Silence stretched between the two of them for a moment, San grateful for the minutes Geonhak let him stew in his feelings, letting them run their course before taking a breath and pushing them aside.

"Home?"

His mom had paid the bill before she left, leaving San to thank their waiter with a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as him and Geonhak filed out. The fresh air was nice, a gentle breeze playing across his face, but it did little to improve his mood, only seeming to stir the unfairness that had settled in his chest earlier.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me just-"

"San?"

It took San a second to recognize the voice, blinking over his shoulder as he tried to put a name or face to it. Yunho stood not that far off, dressed in such casual wear that it still took San another moment of staring at him to make the connection. The tshirt and blue plaid overshirt were such a contrast to the black and silver outfit San had seen him in the other night, no chains or hat in sight, though a few subtle necklaces hung around his neck and earrings decorated his ears. Yunho looked as confused as San felt, both of them staring at each other awkwardly for a second or two before San gave a, "What are you doing here?" that probably came across more suspicious than indented with the way Yunho lifted his hands in a placating gesture.

"Total coincidence, I swear. I'm running some errands for a friend."

"This early in the morning?"

"He has a weird schedule. I'm not sure he sleeps." Yunho's eyes flicked towards Geonhak, a friendly smile gracing his lips as his head dipped in greeting. 

"This is Yunho," San supplied quickly, glancing at Geonhak the same time he gestured to the other man. "He's a- a friend." The word rolled weird off his tongue, ending on a weird tone he was sure the other two could pick up without a problem. At least Yunho didn't argue the title, just glancing in San's general direction. "Yunho, this is Geonhak."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure."

"Anyway." San cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one leg to the other before the two could delve into any embarrassing conversation. "Did you need something?"

"No, I- oh, wait!" Yunho shrugged a backpack off his shoulder, rifling around in one of the pockets before pulling out an all too familiar shirt, neatly folded and free of any bloodstains. "You left this at my place the other night."

"And you've been carrying it around all morning?"

"How else am I supposed to give it back to you?"

"So you were just planning on walking around with my shirt in your bag until what? By some miracle you managed to stumble across me?"

"It worked, didn't it?" San didn't have an answer to that, staring at Yunho while something thorny curled through his chest. "Honestly, I was planning on dropping it off somewhere I knew you'd find it. Your mom owns a club, doesn't she?" From the corner of his eye San noticed Geonhak tense, hand instantly drifting to where a gun sat holstered at his side. If Yunho noticed- and from how the other night had gone San was sure he was aware of the movement- he didn't give any sign of it, just smiling while shouldering his bag. "I need to get going. My friend will chew my ear off if I take too long."

San gingerly took the shirt in both hands, the fabric feeling foreign despite being something he had owned for a while now. Yunho said his goodbyes, flashing a smile and lifting a hand in a wave before jogging away to complete his errands. San didn't have to look up from the shirt to know Geonhak was rounding on him, questions on his tongue. Before he could do much more than inhale, San's grip on the shirt tightened, a stern, "Don't" falling from his lips.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Can we not do this right now?"

"No. We need to do this right now. Really, San? One day your sex-capades are going to get you killed. He knew your name. He knew your mom. You need to stop being so reckless-"

"We met last night."

Geonhak paused in his rant, San practically able to hear the gears spinning as his brother processed what he said. "What?"

"Last night. I-" Teeth dug into his lip, eyes unable to look up and see what sort of expression Geonhak was making. "Look, can we please not do this here? I'll try to explain when we get home, but-" He cut off, a weird texture and sound coming from the middle of the shirt in his hands. Like a subtle crinkle. San blinked down at it, moving one of the folds out of the way to expose a little torn piece of paper, a series of digits scrawled across it along with a short message.

'If you need anything'

"Wow. The sex must have been good if you got his number after the fact."

San rounded on Geonhak, knowing the comment had been made in good fun. It didn't stop him from not holding back and punching him right in the arm, relishing in the little grunt he managed to pull from his bodyguard and the way Geonhak stepped to the side to rub at the sore spot. The joke, as terribly timed as it was, did help to lift San's mood, even if it was only a small amount. 

He gave his eyes a roll, shoving the paper in his pocket and giving Geonhak a light shove. "Come on. The sooner we get home, the sooner I can kick your ass at Mario Kart."

"San." He paused at the odd tone Geonhak had used with his name, chest tightening as he glanced over his shoulder, watching his friend and brother seem to debate with himself before settling on, "Be careful."

He flashed Geonhak a smile he didn't quite feel, hoping there wouldn't be any poking or prodding, praying that Geonhak let it rest like he had done the other night. "Aren't I always?" This time it was San who ended up with a hit to the arm, giving a yelp and jerking away, shooting Geonhak a small glare with little heat to it.

The two went home, San not speaking of the other night or his connection to Yunho, and Geonhak not pressing for the moment. They rested, they ate, they played games, until the sun set and the exhaustion that had settled throughout his body earlier threatened to swallow him whole. San excused himself to go to bed before Geonhak even considered it, cursing his lack of sleep the night before and the exhaustion that had been clinging to him most of the day. 

His room was comfortable, it was familiar, swallowing him in the darkness of night. It was safe, in whatever little part of his life could be safe, offering a place he could let down his walls, be vulnerable in a space only shadows had access to his secrets. All San could manage was falling face down into his pillow, barely having the mind to crawl his way under the blankets. Sleep was easy to find, coming to him not long after, welcoming him into its embrace with open arms.

It was harder to keep.

San awoke with a gasp, darkness still lurking outside of his window, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, body trembling with the remnants of a nightmare. He took a shuddering inhale, dropping his head until his forehead rested against his pillow, eyes closing as he tried to regain control of himself. It was hard, with the phantom touch of metal against his ear and his body aching more than it had earlier, pulling him back towards the flashes of memory and imaginative details his mind had decided to supply.

Legs swung over the edge of the bed, hands scrubbing down his face. The room was suddenly stifling, too warm, too large and too small at the same time, the buzz of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. San didn't hesitate, didn't put any thought into grabbing his phone and making his way downstairs towards the living room. Fresh air would have been better, more relaxing with a breeze brushing against his face and crisp nighttime air, but the journey to the patio was farther than he had energy for, sinking into the couch and letting his head rest against the back.

He sat like that, eyes closed, trying his best to push the images from his mind. It was difficult without something else to occupy it, thoughts continuing to drift, bringing him back to the nightmare, the other night, the shivering fear and anxieties that crawled under his skin. The television was out of the question, no particular series or movie drawing his attention enough to warrant the energy it would take to find the remote and turn it on. He moved without putting too much thought into his actions, pulling up his contacts and typing a quick message out to the number he had added earlier.

[ San: Do you usually give your number out to the people you rescue? ]

San settled back against the couch, not expecting an answer right away, trying not to think about what he would do if he didn't receive an answer. What sort of mental gymnastics he'd need to do in order to keep from slipping back towards the nightmare. It startled him when his phone vibrated in his hand not long after, the message icon lighting up in the corner of the screen.

[ Jeong Yunho: Only the cute ones 

San: You think im cute?

Jeong Yunho: Like a cat

San: A cat

Jeong Yunho: Yeah

San: I'm choosing to take that as a compliment

Jeong Yunho: Good it was meant as one ]

San didn't send a response, curling into the corner of the couch, taking a moment to rest his eyes and enjoy a blissful moment of silence. He knew sleep wouldn't come. Not now. That would be too easy, life letting him have what he wanted for once without so many strings attached it felt like playing an instrument. His phone buzzed in his hands, though it took San a moment before he could find the energy to open his eyes again.

[ Jeong Yunho: Can't sleep or are you normally this much of a night owl

San: Could ask you that myself

Jeong Yunho: I'm waiting to queue into a game

San: You any good

Jeong Yunho: Haven't been playing long

Jeong Yunho: Started because a friend begged me to

San: Thats a no lmao

Jeong Yunho: Be nice I saved your life

San: What game

Jeong Yunho: You didn't answer my question

San: You didnt answer mine

Jeong Yunho: I asked first ]

There were many ways he could have answered. Many different ways he could have avoided the truth, covering up his nightmares with an easy lie. Yunho had given him an easy out, even if the other didn't realize it. San stared at his phone, and despite knowing he had to make a decision, his mind refused to work with him into thinking of anything decent. In fact, his mind seemed determined to think of nothing outside of idle wondering if Yunho would laugh at him if he admitted the truth. 

[ San: Nightmare

Jeong Yunho: Are you wearing my shirt

San: Why is it cursed

Jeong Yunho: No

Jeong Yunho: Nevermind

Jeong Yunho: Weird question

San: Its okay

San: You can say you have a kink

San: This is a kink shame free space

Jeong Yunho: Oh my god

Jeong Yunho: Okay yes 

Jeong Yunho: BUT THATS NOT WHY I ASKED 

San: Im listening

Jeong Yunho: No

Jeong Yunho: It's weird

Jeong Yunho: Go back to making fun of me

San: No you ruined the fun of it ]

Another period of silence, the house settling around him with creaks and groans. Just like with the appearance of Yunho's apartment, San didn't expect conversation to be so normal, like they were two friends chatting just to chat and not basically total strangers. Conversation was easy, even if San took moments to pause before responding, even if his heart wasn't totally into it. It was nice, or as nice as it could be considering the circumstances.

[ Jeong Yunho: Call?

Jeong Yunho: Im in game and cant text ]

Did he want to talk? Not particularly, but he didn't want to go back to total silence, either. A terrible ultimatum where neither option really had decent enough pros to make it worthwhile. Sit in silence and let his mind overwhelm him with thought after thought, recalling dreams and events he'd rather keep long forgotten, or try to force himself to be somewhat social, probably ruining whatever reputation Yunho had created for him in the process. How much did he trust Yunho? How much did he care?

[ San: I wont talk much but sure ]

He waited until he got a thumbs up emoji in response before actually going through with the call, letting it ring over speakerphone until Yunho picked up. He placed his phone on the back of the couch, close enough to his head to be able to hear decently well, but far enough not to be too loud. The first things he heard were the sounds of whatever game Yunho was playing, character voices and attacks muffled but still recognizable, followed up by a hissed curse.

"I've been on the phone for five seconds and you're already cursing." There wasn't the usual energy to San's words, sentence mumbled as he curled into a tighter ball, exhaustion weighing on him.

"Sorry." Yunho didn't sound genuine, but San didn't hold it against him. He knew from first hand experience what it was like trying to juggle conversation and a game at the same time. "I just-" He dropped into a moment of silence before speaking again, the sounds of the game filtering through. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Why'd you agree if you don't know how to play?"

"His boyfriend's not a gamer, and he doesn't have anyone else to play with."

San hummed, resting his head against the plush back of the couch and closing his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the sounds that drifted through the phone. He could probably guess at what game it was judging from the sounds, not really blaming Yunho for having trouble getting used to the controls or the characters. It was at least a little amusing, though, getting to hear his disappointment and excitement in the little noises he made, celebrating victories when they happened loud enough to draw small silent smiles from San.

The quiet stretched between them, neither forcing an attempt at conversation. San came dangerously close to dozing, feeling the heaviness in his limbs and eyelids, only pulling himself free when Yunho spoke up. "You should play with us. Not now," tacked on as if he knew San's non-existent mental state, "but later. The more the merrier, right?"

"Maybe."

The offer settled weird in his chest, pushing on his rib cage, expectations once again thrown to the wind. Normal. The entire conversation had been so _normal_ , a far cry from what San expected from the man that had saved his life the other night in a spray of blood and violence, who knew his family and what they did for the city. How was he to react to such an offer when he was used to fear? Terrified respect? People offering to hang out with him out of obligation or with the intention to use him for their own personal gain? 

Once more he found himself wondering if Yunho was playing some long game, purposely weaseling his way into San's life for his status. It wouldn't be the first time, and it wouldn't be the last with how his life was going, constantly giving only to take away.

He found he didn't currently have the energy to care. It was only an offer, and not one he had to act on any time soon. 

More silence, this time accompanied by anxieties that rolled down his spine, settling over him little by little, dragging with it everything he had been trying to keep at bay. Small things at first, recalling memories twisted over time, tainted by his own insecurities and fears as everything steadily snowballed with each thought, with each argument he tried to debate with himself.

"Hey, Yunho?"

"Mm?"

"Keep talking."

If he noticed how tense San's voice had gotten, he thankfully didn't comment on it, just taking a moment to find a topic to talk about. When he started speaking again it was about the errands he had been running earlier that day, jumping between retelling what he had done, ranting about the friend that had sent him on his journeys, and diving into memories of events long past. San couldn't say he paid attention to much of it, letting Yunho's voice help keep some of the anxieties from building any farther, even if the one sided conversation did little to dispel them entirely.

San could give Yunho credit, though. There was barely a moment of silence before he found something else to talk about, occasionally asking questions San could answer with non committal noises, diving into the rest of the topic with barely a pause once he got a response.

Somewhere along the way San found himself drifting again, mind finally blissfully blank as Yunho's voice turned to background noise, weight settling heavier and heavier onto the couch. The last he remembered hearing was cursing out some mechanic of the game, followed by some minor complaining about his friend and some whining about getting something in return for his suffering. The next moment he was jolting awake with sun shining on his face, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and his phone sitting on the coffee table and connected to a charger.

His head whipped around, mind still heavy with the little amount of sleep he had gotten, stretching his limbs out into the cooler air of the living room. He pawed his phone off the table, dragging one hand down his face as he checked his notifications. Two messages waited for him, the oldest one from a couple hours earlier, a goodnight message from Yunho. The newest one was from not that long ago, his mom's contact name listed threateningly next to it.

' Good morning~  
Yunho seems nice ;) '

"Oh, jesus christ."

Of all the terrible things that could have happened to him, his mom stumbling across Yunho had never crossed the list. Not until the moment he stared at the text, hoping to whatever diety that existed that she had merely seen the text message and hadn't actually spoken to him. San didn't know how he'd survive if they had actually talked, if Yunho had dropped any hints or statements about what had happened the other night.

[ San: ???

Mom: dont worry lol

Mom: i saw the notification when i plugged ur phone in this morning

Mom: so when do i get to meet him? ]

Like with all the other problems that seemed to pop up in his life, San chose to ignore his mom's message, closing out of the chat and busying himself with getting ready for the day, making a mental note to never call Yunho at ass o'lock at night while trying to relax in the living room. One almost mistake was bad enough, he didn't need to suffer through another potential heart attack. 

He paused halfway to the bathroom, wondering where along the way he had considered calling Yunho again. San gave his head a shake, frown tugging down at the corners of his lips, not liking the uneasy feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach. It would be better for everyone involved if he didn't get attached, if he kept his distance and kept any conversation and interaction to a minimum. Less chance for disappointment, less chance to have his worst fears come to light.

But Yunho made it difficult.

It wasn't often, but he still sent messages here or there, sometimes even throwing in a picture or two. San tried to keep his responses to a minimum, usually sending them before he could catch himself, berating himself after. He knew it would have been easier if he cut contact, stopped messaging entire, and San tried. He tried to ignore Yunho's messages, to keep from replying, from keeping conversation going, but some nights made it harder than others. When nightmares nipped at his heels and there was no one else around that would listen to him or help distract him in the ways he wanted.

There were times he went days without responding when his anxiety became too much, but Yunho didn't seem to care, still sending his little messages, still letting San reach out to him when he wanted. What was San supposed to do? What could he do? Tell Yunho the other night had been a mistake? A moment of weakness he wasn't planning on repeating? He couldn't go through with it when he didn't know if it was something he wanted. Too many times he went back and forth, knowing logically it would be better for both of them if he was upfront, cut contact, never reached out to Yunho again. 

Another part of him knew it would be a huge ass lie, that messaging Yunho brought him a sense of calm. It helped that the other had been there for the kidnapping, that San didn't have to try to explain, to hide. Yunho accepted the nightmares, the late night conversations, offered him outs and distractions whether he realized it or not.

Maybe Yunho would eventually stop sending messages, grow bored of posting to a conversation he barely received replies to. Maybe San would eventually wizen up and find the confidence to end things before they went too far.

When the melancholy grew to be too much, uncertainties and fears gnawing on his every Yunho related thought until San could to nothing but hide, he drowned himself in the only distractions that ever seemed to work. Distractions where he could get lost in the pounding of the bass that traveled all the way from his feet to the top of his head at his mother's club, drowning out his ever constant thoughts with vibrations and dull thundering. Voices that were nothing but a white noise in the background, blending together in a way that made it impossible to tell them apart from each other. 

San loved the club. The bodies, the sounds, the awe and respect that followed him as he prowled the floor. His name carried power, family name carrying a weight no one wanted to disturb, but so many wanted to touch, to taste even just once. Desire followed him everywhere he went in the club, people drinking in his appearance, his movements, the smiles and attention he gave others. He knew it wasn't all pleasant. Some kept an eye on him for their own personal status and gain, while others were looking to add his name to the notches on their bedpost. 

It wasn't often San said no.

He was generous like that.

A smile curled around the edge of his glass, drink sweet and heavy all at once. The perfect way to end the night. A chance to unwind, get lost in a sea of various pleasures and sensations. He could feel the buzz beginning to grow with each drink, pushing him farther, a little enabling voice echoing in the back of his head that he had never been able to say no to. Not when he was in as good a mood as he currently was, worries and responsibilities forgotten the longer the night dragged on.

He stood, flashing the bartender a grin before turning towards the dance floor, eyes scraping across the crowd. San was three steps towards someone that had caught his eye when a warm body pressed against his side, one sharp nail trailing up the front of his chest.

"Well, aren't you handsome," was purred close to his ear, hand settling where a nail once roamed, body pressing a little closer like the proximity and arm that snaked around one of his own might help influence any decision he made in the near future. San could appreciate the attempt.

"I've heard that once or twice before." A smirk tugged at his lips, part dangerous, part curious, eyes taking in their appearance. The fur that lined the shirt around their shoulders, the faint traces of make up that highlighted the right areas to be captivating and dangerous, clothing that accented the right places.

They turned, not missing the way San eyed them, doing what they could to keep his attention on them. "Enough for it to have grown old?"

"Depends."

That brought a wide smile from them, one hand lifting to hide chittering laughter. Almost like birdsong, San realized, the sound melodic. "My friend and I are looking for some fun. Don't suppose you know where we would be able to find some?" There was something about their tone, the words, that rang pleasant in his ears, encouraging and inviting at the same time. It was hard to say no, not that he particularly wanted to. 

"I might."

"Maybe you'd want to join us?" There wasn't much of a height difference between them, but somehow they still found a way to look up at San through their lashes. Part of San wondered if the act typically worked considering how stereotypical it all seemed, but where it might have been annoying if anyone else had done it, the actions were beginning to be more endearing.

He turned his head, nosing along their neck, breathing in an unfamiliar yet pleasant scent. Something foreign, maybe? It was curious, interesting, catching San's attention. It mixed with the alcohol in his system, warm and comforting, and more than a little exciting if he was being honest with himself. "I might."

"Good." Their voice purred next to his ear, hands dropping to tug at his wrist.

It was a little more difficult to weave through the crowds than usual, barely muttered apologies on his tongue, words thick with each step that brought them closer to one of the side doors. Their friend met them at the door, pressing in on San's other side, taking his hand in their own. It took less than five steps from the door, swinging shut behind them with little care for who heard the frame rattle, before they were both pressing in closer than before, one capturing his lips in a messy and uncoordinated kiss.

San couldn't complain. He was more than willing to comply, to answer the questions posed by hands and lips, corralling him back step by small step until his back hit brick. His head tipped to the side as lips worked against his flesh, his fingers flexing on someone's hips, the haze in his mind doing well to block out anything other than everything burning against his skin.

The distraction he had been looking for all night.

The chance to get lost in something other than his head.

It was hard, though, to focus on anything other than the bodies in front of him, the voices that rung through his ears, teasing, prompting, pulling him farther and farther down into a void of pleasure. Hands roamed while teeth nipped at his jaw, his neck, his shoulders, their bodies leaving him little room to move. Not that he minded, since it was that very sort of attention he had been after that night.

"What a good boy." 

A shiver ran down his spine at the praise, lips quirking in the beginnings of a smirk, words he might have said dying on his tongue.

"I bet you taste delightful."

The bites along his skin turned harsher, fingers curling until the sharp point of nails dug into his skin. Each rough drag of nails, every too harsh bite, sent heat rolling through his body, accompanied by the distant thought that there would be marks throughout his skin. Scratches and bruises both visible and not.

One of his hands lifted in the limited space offered to him, head ducking to try to capture a pair of lips with his own. Instead of lips he was met with a single finger that rested on the corner of his own, keeping him from moving any closer despite the teeth that nibbled on his lower lip. "Eager, aren't you? Don't worry. You need to do something for us, though. Be a good boy. No touching, alright?"

His hands dropped, resting against the wall behind him, fingers flexing against the brick. Teeth dug hard into his lip, pulling a wince from him as he leaned back, tasting blood on his tongue. Another sharp bite at the juncture where neck met shoulder, and a part of San knew if he twisted his head to look there would be more of his blood. 

One of them pulled their lips off of him, head resting on his shoulder as they looked down the alley towards the street. The fingers of the other tangled in his hair, tilting his head and giving him a good angle to follow the look. Someone stood at the entrance to the alley, form tall and fuzzy, something about what few features San could make out vaguely familiar.

"Keep moving, pretty boy. This doesn't concern you."

"He's mine." Voice low, threatening, and if San thought on it hard enough, even sounding close to pissed. It didn't sound like Geonhak. San remembered leaving Geonhak in the club, waggling his eyebrows at him before sauntering off to the dance floor. Not to mention they had an understanding. Geonhak wouldn't have gone looking for him so soon, and the voice didn't sound right, the build didn't look quite right.

"We got here first." Nails dug into his arm, sharp and possessive, lips stretching impossibly wide into a grin that was more predatory than anything else. "Or did you come here for a piece, too? Hoping for some scraps? I can't guarantee how much wil be left, but we can throw together a doggy bag for y-"

Quicker than San could comprehend, the man was across the alley, slamming the one who had spoke against the brick with a large hand around their throat. The nails that had been digging into his arm tore down his skin, angry red marks and blood coloring him. San whined, not from the pain that burned through his arm, but the sudden lack of warmth and attention he was receiving from the two he had been with. San's head lolled to the side, taking in Yunho's appearance- the downward slant of his brows, the unchecked rage that burned in his eyes, the pull of his lips barely keeping his teeth hidden- with a quirk of his lips.

God, San needed someone to touch him.

"We do not fear you, pup. You're _weak_." The one not trapped against the wall circled Yunho, fingers curled into claws. "A shadow of what you once were. We can feel it. Join us, and become what you were meant to be. All it takes is the life of one human. A small price to pay for freedom."

Yunho tracked their movements, his grip never lessening, barely letting either of them out of his line of sight if he could help it. "Yeah." Some of the tension seemed to leave the two, smiles sharp. "No thanks."

Just as before, everything seemed to happen in a flash. A scream, piercing and sharp, rang against San's ears, vibrating down to his very bones. A snarl rose up to meet it, angry and defiant, sending a shiver down his spine. It was a mess of a fight from what San could see, from what his mind could piece together through the hormones and alcohol, two against one in a confined space. His legs wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't move, though he wasn't sure they could support his weight even if he wanted to.

Blood splattered against his face, his clothes, the scent of blood overtaking the stench of the alley. He didn't know if it was Yunho's or belonged to one of the two he had at his sides moments ago, wasn't sure who was winning through all the noise and chaos. Not until one of the two lay twisted and mangled, barely recognizable as a person, and the other scrambled for the mouth of the alley, spitting curses in their wake. 

Not until Yunho was standing in front of him, both too close and too far away, fingers resting against San's chin and tilting his head up to meet Yunho's gaze. A touch not gentle, but borderline possessive, tilting San's head side to side as Yunho's gaze raked over him, frown tugging at his lips at the bite marks that no doubt littered his skin. Yunho wasn't free of his own marks, blood dripping from scratches along what skin San could see.

San's lips twitched, dragging a breathy, "Hey," as his only form of greeting. As if he hadn't been trying to distract himself from Yunho minutes earlier. As if the entire nighttime venture hadn't been due to his own inconsistent desires that now stood right in front of him.

"Hey." Yunho returned it like he had trouble forming the word, voice low and gravely, his hand dropping from his chin.

There was a moment where San mourned the loss of contact, the smirk dropping from his lips, the beginnings of a needy whine working through his throat as he pushed off from the wall to chase after it. The only thing that kept him from tilting sideways and crashing to the ground as his legs turned to jelly beneath his weight was the arm that wrapped around his waist, fingers digging into the skin of his hip. He burned from the contact, suddenly too aware of where Yunho touched him, how Yunho's fingers twitched against San's side like he was second guessing himself.

There would be none of that, not after San finally had what he wanted. He shifted closer, tilting his head up until his lips rested dangerously close to Yunho's own. "Fuck me."

"San-"

"If you won't, I'll find someone who will." Teeth dug into Yunho's lower lip, tugging the same time he gave a roll of his hips, trying his best not to appear as desperate as he felt. Though the sharp gasp when his crotch rubbed against Yunho's thigh probably ruined that.

Yunho gave a growl that traveled to low in San's gut, turning and capturing his lips with his own. All San could do was grin into it, pleased at finally getting the attention he wanted. "My place's not far."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed. Hopefully the next chapter doesn't take as long but I cannot make any promises since there's three other projects I need to get done before I can focus entirely on it. 
> 
> If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or want to keep up with writing updates feel free to check out my [twitter](http://twitter.com/waterclrsannie) and my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/watercolorsannie).


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